


Its Time to Begin, Isn't It?

by Telesilla



Series: This Is My Kingdom Come [6]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Baseball, Beating, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's fucking with his head--Posey's fucking with his head--and Madison doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Its Time to Begin, Isn't It?

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, there's some heavy dub-con in this, so if that's not your thing, you shouldn't read.

_August 4, 2012_  
 _@ Rockies W 11-6_

 

The first thing Madison notices when he wakes up is the chastity thing. His dick feels really weird and it takes him a moment to figure out why; it's not the thing, so much as what the thing is doing to him. Normally, he'd wake up with the usual morning wood, which would usually lead to some quick jerking off. This morning, he isn't hard and he can't get hard and it's all very freaky.

And annoying, because where does Posey get off anyway? What the hell did Belt mean last night when he said Posey was doing this for Madison's own good. What the fucking fuck is he doing, putting up with this bullshit?

He's just coming back from the bathroom when he smells coffee. The fuck?

It's Posey, of course, lounging on Madison's bed. There's coffee and a pink donut box on the desk; Madison has no doubt that there's an apple fritter and a maple bar in it. Normally it wouldn't bug him, because of course Posey knows everyone's pregame breakfast, but the fact that Posey just walked into Madison's room and flopped down on Madison's bed like it's fucking his....

Like Madison is his.

"Get the fuck out," Madison says.

"Because you just woke up," Posey says, his voice mild and easy. "You get that one for free; you won't tomorrow. I suggest you shut the fuck up and get over here." 

Madison doesn't want to, but he knows there are other battles coming up and he should probably save his strength. Also, Posey still has the key to the thing. With a sigh, Madison walks over to stand next to the bed. Looking down at Posey is weird; Posey looks so...normal, stretched out on Madison's bed in one of his ugly plaid shirts and a pair of jeans. Madison feels a little ridiculous looming over him like this.

"Lose the sweats."

That stomach twist is back; Madison's hands are shaking a little as he pushes his sweats down. The room's a little cold and it's stupid to feel so exposed when he's been naked around Posey for years, all the way back to their time in San Jose.

Posey moves around a little on the bed until he's sitting in the middle, back to the headboard. "Okay then," he says, patting his lap.

"What?" Surely Posey doesn't mean what Madison thinks he does.

"Jesus, you're a stupid fuck. Get over my lap."

"I...can't." It's suddenly all too much; Madison just stares down at Posey. "I just...."

He half expects Posey to yell at him or threaten or even grab him, but Posey just looks back at him. "No," he says. "You just think you can't. By the time I'm done with you, you'll learn just what you can do." He pauses. "And you'll learn to do as you're told."

 _It's for your own good,_ Belt had said. Posey's saying kind of the same thing, in a way, but Madison doesn't see how getting a fucking spanking from Buster fucking Posey is going to be good for him. He doesn't know how any of this is going to be good for him.

"You're so cute when you're confused." Posey reaches out and pats Madison's hip. Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a set of keys.

The chastity thing doesn't feel any better coming off than it did going on. Without really thinking about it, Madison reaches down to scratch and adjust things. When Posey's hand closes around his, Madison almost jumps out of his skin. He can't help wondering if Posey's going to jerk him off again, but no, Posey just squeezes a little and lets go.

"C'mon then," he says, patting his lap again. "Look, I've been giving you some breaks here, so I'll tell you right now that I'm not going to spank you." He pauses and adds, "Not on a day you start."

"Oh," Madison says. He's aware that he's running out of options; Posey's tapping his fingers on his thigh in a way that makes it clear that he's running out of patience.

Finally, feeling like an idiot, Madison clambers onto the bed and over Posey's lap. The denim of Posey's jeans is rough against his dick and thighs and the position hurts his back a little. As he squirms to get comfortable, he feels that weird feeling in his stomach again.

"Okay," Posey says, running a hand down Madison's thigh like he's gentling a skittish horse. "I'm going to ask you some questions. If you don't answer me, or I think you're bullshitting or lying...well, you're not a kid or a puppy. If I don't punish you until tomorrow, you'll still remember why.

"Let's start with your experience. You only ever used Belt's mouth or hands, right?"

Posey makes it sound...weird, like Madison did something wrong to take what Belt offered. What Belt offers to just about everybody he meets. "It wasn't like that."

"Oh? How was it? Because he tells me all he ever got from you was the occasional hand job. You didn't suck him, did you?"

"He never said he wanted anything more."

"No he probably didn't. He really doesn't have a problem getting repressed straight boys off without asking anything in return."

"I...." Madison looks at the bedspread.

"Yeah, thought so." Posey slides his fingers into Madison's hair and tugs at it. "Look at me." It's hard to meet Posey's eyes, but Madison manages it. "I really like repressed straight boys."

There isn't really anything Madison can say, so he just swallows hard.

"Now," Posey says, letting go of Madison's hair. "I know you've never been fucked. And I know you'll give the occasional hand job. How about blow jobs? Ever done that."

"No."

"You have a girlfriend back home, right?"

"Not really. Not any more." It's not a big tragic story or anything; Ali wanted someone who would be happy farming with her and Madison wanted to play ball. Even Madison's two million signing bonus hadn't been enough to tempt her and honestly, that only made Madison like her more. 

"Good. Ever fuck her?"

"Yeah. Couple times." It hadn't been all that good--neither of them knew what they were doing--but Madison's not going to say that.

"Anyone else?"

"A few girls since then." They'd been hookers, but Madison's not going to say that either.

"Anything kinky?"

"No!"

"You saying there's something wrong with kinky?" Posey rests a hand on Madison's lower back.

And Madison should know better, but maybe he really is a stupid fuck, because he says, "There is the way you do it."

"Guess what?" Posey says after a long, scary silence. "You don't get that one for free." He shifts a little, reaching for something in his pocket.

Whatever Madison was expecting, the plain Sharpie Posey puts down in front of him isn't it. "See this?"

Madison nods.

"I'm going to write a number on you. Tonight, after the game, I'm going to take my belt off and use it on your ass that many times. If you keep pissing me off, I'll replace that number with a larger one." He pauses and Madison can feel a weird scratch as Posey writes something on the small of his back. "Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Posey puts the pen on the nightstand and then slides a hand over the curve of Madison's ass. "Your daddy ever beat you?"

"No. Spanked me a few times but only a few slaps...never a belt."

"Hmmmm...." Posey gives him a little slap. "Spanking's all right; I like seeing my hand print on a boy's ass. But a belt...there's just something about the sound of it, something about the welts it leaves."

The thought of Posey beating him is scary as all fuck but.... _Oh God,_ Madison thinks. _Please don't let him notice._

He should have known better.

"Really?" Posey presses a thigh up and Madison tries to ignore the pressure against his hard on. "Is it the idea of my belt? Or is it because I've got you bare-assed over my lap? Both maybe?"

Madison's not sure if Posey wants an answer. Not that he'd have an answer. He's hard and that feeling in his stomach is back and he wants to crawl under the bed and hide. He wants to pretend none of this is happening. He wants...he wants Posey to make him come.

It's just that he didn't this morning, Madison tells himself. He had that stupid thing on his dick so he couldn't jerk off the way he normally does. But no, that's bullshit and he knows it.

"You want to get off?"

There's no good answer to that, far as Madison knows. Turns out he's wrong about that too.

"Here's what you say," Posey says as his hand slides down Madison's ass to his thigh. "'Only if you want me to' or "Whatever you want,' or 'It's not up to me,' or pretty much anything that makes one thing very clear. And you know what that thing is?"

"What you said last night. That I...that it's only when you want me to."

"You can learn." Posey's hand moves back up Madison's thigh, on the inside this time. Without really thinking about it, Madison spreads his legs. "God, you want it bad."

"I...."

"Thing is," Posey says, "you're not the only guy on this bed who's hard." He pushes Madison into a slightly different position and then Madison feels it--the hard ridge of Posey's dick--against his hip.

"Belt says you're not bad with your hands, but let's be honest here, Belt's not exactly particular."

Madison can't help wondering when Posey questioned Belt about him. Was it before or after Madison made a fucking fool of himself and cried on Belt's shoulder?

"In a way," Posey continues, "it's good that you don't know what you're doing. It's like pitching...it's better I get to you before you've learned how to do it wrong."

Again, it's Posey's tone of voice that makes the whole thing so fucking creepy. Posey's so fucking matter of fact, like this is just how things are. And maybe, for Posey, it is.

_And what about me? Will I get to be like Belt? Will this just be the way things are?_

"Off now," Posey says with a sharp slap to Madison's ass. "On your knees by the bed."

Doing his best to pretend he's not hard, Madison scrambles off the bed. Going to his knees makes him think of those times Belt went to his knees in front of Madison. Had Madison really been using him like this?

No, not like this. Madison had taken what Belt offered and maybe he hadn't reciprocated enough, but he'd never been cruel.

Posey's sitting in front of Madison now and it's so fucking weird because Madison looks at Posey's crotch all the damn time. Now, he's right there, in between Posey's big thighs staring a bulge that has nothing to do with a cup.

"Well, c'mon. Your coffee's getting cold. Or do I need to throw down few signs so you know what to do?" Posey asks and God is he a fucking mind reader or what?

"No," Madison mumbles.

At least his hands aren't shaking, he thinks, even though he's nervous as all fuck as he reaches up to undo Posey's belt. Posey leans back on his hands and it's not fair because he really is hot. Madison's suddenly furious. Posey could have had him for a smile, he thinks. Even back when they were in San Jose, Madison had looked up to him, had wanted Posey's attention. He'd thought he was straight then--still thinks he is, kind of--but Posey could have changed his mind easily.

Now? Now he's just confused and pissed off.

"Why not then? In the minors?" he asks, his hands busy with Posey's fly. "Because you could have...I would have...."

"No," Posey says. "You wouldn't have. Not like this." He glares down at Madison and taps his finger on the bed.

Madison gets the message and starts easing Posey's jeans and shorts down. And God, Madison already knew that Posey was hung, but now he can't help but stare. There's no way that's going to fit in his mouth, let alone up his ass. He licks his lips and then instantly regrets it. Oh sure, Posey knows Madison's tells, knows he always licks his lips when he's nervous, but he's learning that Posey won't miss a chance to....

"Don't worry," Posey says. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be licking your lips because you want it so bad. You'll fucking beg for it."

Madison wants to believe that Posey's wrong, wants to tell Posey that he never will, or at least never will and mean it. But he's not... he can't be sure. The idea that he'd beg to suck cock makes him want to squirm with embarrassment, but he's still hard. It doesn't make sense at all.

He shoves the thought into the back of his head; he needs to concentrate on the here and now, even if the here and now involves jerking Buster Posey off. He reaches out, but before he can touch Posey's cock, Posey grabs his hand.

"I'm not Belt," he says and pulls something out of his pocket. It's another small bottle of the same lube Posey had him using yesterday. Madison wonders how much of this stuff Posey carries around. "I don't like it rough." As he pops the cap and drizzles some of it over Madison's palm, he adds, "When you're jacking off, do you do it dry?"

"I do it in the shower a lot," Madison says, staring at their hands. He's blushing again and knows Posey will see it in spite of Madison's player's tan. "And sometimes I use spit."

"Of course you do."

Posey lets go of his hand, and it's almost like Madison's looking at someone else's hand as he reaches out and carefully wraps his hand around Posey's dick. It may look huge, but it feels a lot like Madison's, smooth and hard and familiar. The angle is off--he used to sit or lie next to Belt and the lube makes things a little different, but it's a dick and Madison thinks he can do this.

Remembering what Posey said about not liking it rough, Madison tries not to grip too tight as he works his hand up and down Posey's dick. It's a little unnerving because Posey's so still and quiet and suddenly all Madison can remember is Posey saying he would be evaluating Madison. _Like what, advance scouting reports on my handjobs?_

He has no idea what Posey wants or what Posey likes, so he keeps it slow and steady and then...finally, he looks up. Posey's looking down at him, head tilted to one side just a little and it's weird how much Madison wants to see him lose it. Wants to see Posey actually admit that he's getting off on it.

"Not bad," Posey says and maybe it's Madison's imagination, but his voice sounds a little huskier than normal. Remembering something Belt once did to him, Madison twists his hand a little on the next upstroke. Posey closes his eyes and murmurs, "Better."

The experience is still totally unreal; the room is quiet enough that Madison can hear the slide of his lubed slick hand moving over the shaft of Posey's dick and the faint rasp of Posey's breathing. Madison doesn't want to be here but maybe he does, because he still wants to see Posey come, still wants to come himself.

What else would Posey like? Madison isn't sure because he doesn't get all that fancy when he's jacking off. Posey's dick is getting darker and there's a bead of precome on the head and oh God, something is really really wrong here because Madison wants to lean forward and lick it. He rubs his thumb over it instead, and Posey makes a harsh noise that sounds a little like a gasp.

Madison does it again and Posey leans back on his hands again, head tilted so Madison can see the rough stubble on the underside of his chin. It's weirdly intimate and Madison bites his lip and turns his attention back to Posey's dick.

When, a moment or two later, Posey speaks, Madison almost jumps out of his skin. "Work it faster, boy."

Back when Madison did this to Belt, Belt made noise and rocked his hips up, shoving his dick into Madison's grip so fast and hard that Madison barely had to move his hand. He knows Posey doesn't want it as rough as Belt and probably not as fast, but Madison does pick up the pace a little. He keeps using his thumb on the upstroke and then, suddenly, Posey grunts something and comes all over Madison's hand.

Reaching for the tissues on the nightstand is automatic; although it's a little weird to be cleaning up someone else's mess. Belt sometimes licked Madison's fingers clean which Madison thought was pretty disgusting. Madison's tasted come--he's pretty sure everyone's done that at least once--and he didn't like it much.

Not that that matters, he thinks, tossing the tissues into the trash basket. He's pretty sure Posey will expect him to swallow. He licks his lip again, trying to forget that earlier moment when he wanted to use his tongue. This is fucking with his head and it's not going get any better.

"Not bad," Posey says. His voice is even again and his hands are steady as he tucks himself back in and zips up his jeans. "I'd give you about a C for that."

Madison bites his lip and says nothing. Apparently that's the wrong thing to do; Posey looks down at him and raises an eyebrow. What the fuck? He frantically turns over everything Posey's told him to do and...seriously?

"Thank you, Buster," he says, still looking at the floor.

"Well well well, will ya look at that," Posey drawls, his accent suddenly thick. "The boy can learn." He stares down at Madison and then smiles.

It's not a particularly nice smile; Madison swallows hard, sure he's not going to like what's coming next.

"I'm going to give you a choice." Posey holds up the Sharpie. "I can lower that number on your back or I can let you come now."

"I...um...."

"You better make up your mind fast because if you don't, you don't get either."

Madison thinks of trying to pitch...which would be worse, being frustrated or looking forward to a beating? He's pretty sure Posey will want to go over the scouting report later and....

"Um...come," he mumbles, his face burning.

"Oh c'mon, I know your mama raised you better than that."

"Please," Madison, his voice shaking. "May I...will you let me come?" And oh God, this is so fucked up because Madison is suddenly desperate to come.

And it's like Posey _knows_ because he gives Madison another one of those tight little smiles. "Won't take much, will it?"

Madison shakes his head, hoping Posey doesn't make him speak.

"Thought so." Posey leans forward. "Use your hand and make it quick."

And fuck it, Madison shouldn't be able to do this, but he wants it too much to care. Reaching down, he skims his hand over the head of his dick and just like he thought, he's already wet enough that he doesn't need anything to slick up his hand. Staring at the floor, he starts jerking off. He doesn't go for anything fancy, nothing like what he did to Posey, just the plain rough strokes that always get him off.

"Look at you," Posey says. "Down on your knees at my feet, jacking it because I let you, because I allowed it. Because you asked me. Because you wanted it so bad that you'll take a beating for it. If I stopped you right now, you'd beg me for it. You _want_ to beg...."

And just like that, Madison comes. It's so fucking good that when he's done he's hunched over and panting like he's just run a mile.

"Jesus," Posey says. "You look good down there. You belong down there."

And it's not really a compliment, so why does it feel like one?

Why does it feel like Posey's right?

* * *

Everything melts away when he's on the mound. It helps that he gets plenty of run support--ironically enough, he walks onto the field in the bottom of the first with a two run lead thanks to Posey. And sure it helps that the Rockies are really bad right now and that the Giants are seeing the ball well. But still, Madison has his stuff and when his curveball gives him trouble--fucking Coors Field--he's able to adjust. He even shakes Posey off a couple of times without thinking about anything but the next pitch. Once he's out, the bullpen's a little rocky but the win was never really in doubt. It's another W in his stats and his ERA's hovering around 3.00 and he's feeling pretty good when the game is over.

He didn't throw an huge number of pitches and he doesn't ice, so he stays through to the end and undresses with everyone else. He showers with everyone else too and doesn't even think about the whole safety in numbers thing until afterwards, when he's sitting down pulling his boots on. Someone comes up behind him and ruffles his hair and he turns to chew the person out because he fucking hates that. It's Posey, of course, and Madison shuts his mouth before he says anything stupid.

Posey's not doing anything overt, but Madison's face goes hot anyway. He can hear Belt's voice, echoing in his ears. _Everyone knows._ When Madison looks around, the first person he sees is Pence and Pence...Pence is looking at Madison with a sardonic look on his face that makes Madison feel naked. Posey's hand tightens in Madison's hair and then Pence is looking away.

The whole thing is weird and creepy, and Madison hates it. It's bad enough that Posey's doing these things to Madison but it's fucking awful that a guy who's been with the team for less than a week knows what's going on. "We'll go out with the guys and have a few beers," Posey says quietly. "Where a few is three. That's all you get tonight."

He ruffles Madison's hair again and then he's gone. Madison keeps his head down staring at the toes of his boots for a long moment and then looks up when someone sits on the bench next to him. "C'mon," Belt says. "We're gonna walk up to that place a couple blocks from here."

"Okay," Madison says and then he stops and glares at Belt. "You...."

"This is a conversation we're not having here," Belt says. "I know you're mad at me and I know why, but not here." He nods his head to one side and Madison sees Posey talking to Pence. "Later. Oh hey, Crawford, you up for a beer?"

"Yeah," Crawford says. He's frowning a little but he looks like he's...how did Belt put it? All there.

It suddenly occurs to Madison that Crawford might be the sanest person in the room.

 

* * *

The place they usually go to in Denver is a nice little bar that, during the season, caters to the opposing teams. You won't find anyone giving you shit and the staff won't be surly or lazy. Normally, Madison likes the place, but even though he won the game, he doesn't want to be here. If he could get drunk, maybe, but Posey said only three beers and Madison can't get drunk on three fucking beers.

"Hey," Crawford says, settling in next to Madison. Posey's at another table talking with Cain and Lopez and Madison's feeling like he's sitting at the kids' table. "You okay?"

"Not really."

"Because you think everyone's looking at you and wondering."

"Yeah."

"Well, they are, but it gets better. You get used to it."

Madison frowns. Belt said Posey didn't, not exactly, with Crawford. "Like you'd know."

"Actually, I would. I'm fucking crazy and there isn't a person on this team who doesn't know that I spend a fair amount of my time thinking I'm a puppy."

Madison looks down at his beer, because yeah, he deserved that.

"Do you know how Posey found out? About me?" Before Madison can answer, Crawford goes on. "Brandon told him."

"Didn't it...weren't you pissed off?"

"Yeah, at first. But here's the thing, once he decided to...once Brandon was his, he was going to find out anyway. And you know Posey; if he asked you about the newest guy in the clubhouse...or really, about anything, would you lie to him?"

Madison thinks about the number written on his back. "No, probably not."

"Then cut Brandon some fucking slack, would you? He's got his own adjustments to make now and he doesn't need you being all pissy."

"Yeah, okay." He looks at Crawford, remembering his earlier thought. "I kinda think you're lucky."

Crawford snorts. "I am but not because I have a coping mechanism that lets me check out. I'm lucky because...." He glances over to where Belt is sitting with Pence and Blanco and the smile on his face says it all.

"Just remember," Crawford adds. "He's not like you, but he's been where you are. If you want to...if you get a chance, come hang out with us."

Madison's not likely to get that chance but Crawford means well. "Thanks."

 

* * *

 

"So what did the puppy say to you?"

It's a perfect illustration of what Crawford said earlier; Madison can't imagine not telling Posey. Well, most of it.

"Not to be pissed off at Belt. For talking to you about me."

"It's so cute the way he's Belt's guard dog," Posey says, his lip curling up a little.

Madison is beginning to think a guard dog might not be a bad thing to have, but he's not about to say that to Posey.

"And why are you still dressed?" Posey snaps. "You're alone with me, you're naked unless I tell you otherwise."

Madison's sitting down to pull off his boots when Posey holds up a hand. "Thinking it over, you'll stay dressed for this part." He points at the desk. "Clear that off and pull it away from the wall."

Fuck, Madison thinks as he starts moving things off the desk. He knows damn well what's going to happen next and making him set things up just makes the anticipation worse. Once he's got the desk in the middle in the middle of the room, he stands staring at it. 

"Look at me," Posey says and Madison turns. Posey's not wearing his usual belt, or at least not the one he was wearing earlier this morning. It's his uniform belt he's unbuckling and Madison stares, almost hypnotized as Posey slowly pulls the worn, black leather belt through his belt loops. He jumps a little when Posey doubles it over and smacks his hand with it.

"Well?"

Madison undoes his own belt buckle, unzips his fly and, taking a deep breath to calm that feeling in his stomach, he pushes his jeans and shorts down. He's already getting hard but he just adjusts things a little and then tries to ignore it as he bends over the desk. It's useless to hope that Posey won't notice but he doesn't mention it. He rests a hand on Madison's back, right where he'd written the number.

"It's a six," he says. "And because you were good and didn't ask me or try to figure out what the number was, I'll take one off."

"It won't make a difference," Madison says, his voice tight. "I don't want this."

"I know," Posey says, his voice low and soft as he strokes the small of Madison's back. "That just makes it better for me."

Even as Madison thinks that this is turning into a complete nightmare, he feels that thing happening in his stomach and he needs to stop lying to himself. It's want, coiling there in his in his lower belly. He doesn't want this...only maybe he does. It's fucking with his head--Posey's fucking with his head--and Madison doesn't know what to do.

Posey pats him again and then he steps back a little. Madison stretches his arms out and grips the other edge of the desk and braces himself best he can.

"FUCK!"

It hurts more than Madison expected, more than he _could_ have expected. It's like Posey hit him with hot iron, like he took a piece of Madison's skin off.

The second blow is worse because Madison knows how bad it will be. He yells his way through it, clenching the desk as hard as he can. It's...it's terrifying, just how much it hurts. The third is worse--it burns like ice cold metal sticking to his skin and then coming off. He yells again--"motherfucker!" this time and dimly hopes Posey won't think he's swearing at him.

He can't take another, just can't. He needs to let go of the desk and roll out of the way of Posey's belt. He needs to beg, to do whatever it takes to get Posey to stop. He can't...he can't.... The belt slams down again and there are no words this time; Madison screams and blinks back tears. He doesn't want to cry, not in front of Posey, but he doesn't know if he can stop himself.

The next blow doesn't come and Madison can't figure out if he's counted wrong or what. There must be more, he thinks and keeps clinging to the desk waiting for it.

"You mark up so well," Posey says. He's panting just a little and it can't be from exertion; Madison's sure that this turns Posey on more than the handjob did. "Look at this, look at you." He runs a finger over one of the welts and Madison gasps. "Tell me."

Somehow, Madison knows what Posey wants. "It hurts," he gasps and once he starts, he's not sure he can stop. "It hurts like hell...oh God...I can't...please don't...I can't...."

"Yes you can. I want you to." Posey's hand slides along Madison's thigh and then up and in. When Madison spreads his legs, Posey cups his balls and runs a finger along the underside of his dick. "You can pretend you don't want it. You can pretend you can't take it." He leans over until his mouth is right by Madison's ear. "But your dick loves it. Someday I'll beat you until you come from it."

And fuck this is so messed up because Madison hears himself whimper a little. His ass is on fire and Posey's not being all that gentle with his balls and oh God, it wouldn't take much...just another moment, just another touch of Posey's finger....

He whimpers again when Posey pulls his hand away.

"Now," Posey says. "I want to hear you scream one more time."

Even if Madison wanted to hold back, he couldn't. When it lands, it feels like the blow rips the scream out of him and this time he can't keep the tears from coming. When he can finally think again, finally breathe again, he just lies there, shaking. He's not sobbing or even crying heavily, but the tears are rolling down his face.

"Jesus," he finally says, his voice shaky. "That hurt...it really fucking hurt."

"Yeah?" Posey's voice is harsh and then Madison hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone.

Oh no...oh no, he's not ready for this, he's already hurting so much and if Posey fucks him he'll...well he doesn't know what he'll do. Scream more, probably. But Posey doesn't touch him and after a moment he hears something familiar--a faint slick, slapping sound....

Holy shit, Posey's jerking off behind him. Madison goes up on one elbow to look over his shoulder, but Posey plants a hand on the middle of his back and pushes. "Get down and stay down."

Posey keeps his hand on Madison's back while he bends over Madison and Madison knows that Posey's looking at his ass while he jacks off. And this is wrong, so wrong because knowing this, knowing that his pain turns Posey on like this, shouldn't be so hot. Posey's breathing louder and faster now, and the sound is getting under Madison's skin.

Even though he knows what's going to happen, he still isn't ready for the way it feels when Posey mutters something Madison can't hear and comes all over Madison ass. It's just something warm and wet like water in a shower, but he _knows_ it's come. Thanks to hours spent watching porn, he even knows what it looks it looks like. It makes him feel dirty, which is probably what Posey intended. It's also weirdly arousing, although Madison doesn't know why. What's wrong with him, that he's getting off on the things Posey's doing? How could Posey do this to him?

And then....

"Oh fuck!" Madison almost falls off the desk when Posey's slides a wet finger down the crack of Madison's ass.

"Oh for God's sake," Posey says, as he slowly presses his finger into Madison's ass. "You did this to yourself just yesterday."

It seems like it's been a year or two since Madison knelt in the showers and stuck his own fingers up his ass. It's like he's a totally different person now and he can never go back to being the person he was before Posey interrupted his shower.

"You're so fucking tight," Posey murmurs. "Gonna feel so good when I finally fuck you." He pushes another finger in and then twists them and....

"Don't," Madison gets out through gritted teeth. "I can't...I'm gonna...if you keep...."

"Oh, you're getting off on this?" Posey asks, like he can't tell. "Let me get this straight--you've got a really impressive set of welts on your ass from my belt, I've just come all over you and I'm finger fucking you with my own come. Jesus, Bumgarner, you've only been mine for one day and you're already a total slut."

"I'm not...you did this...."

"Or maybe you always were a slut. Maybe you've always wanted this, wanted to belong to someone like me."

"No! I don't want it!" Madison yells and then he's coming all over himself and the desk. Posey doesn't let up, in fact he shoves his fingers in hard, turning them roughly while Madison completely loses it. It hurts and his ass hurts from the welts and he doesn't want to like this but he does and it feels so fucking good. It's so much better than any orgasm he's ever had; he's left gasping and shaking and, oh God, he's crying again.

"Yeah," Posey says as he finally slides his fingers out. "I can tell how much you don't want it." He pats Madison's ass and Madison gulps and tries to ignore the pain. "I'm going to wash up. When I get back, I want you on your knees with the Sharpie in your hand."

 _What did I do...oh fuck._ Is he really in trouble for coming? What the hell was he supposed to do when Posey was doing that, making him feel like that?

The Sharpie's on the nightstand where Posey left it. It hurts like hell when Madison goes down on his knees and he hangs his head, not wanting Posey to see that he's been crying.

"You know why you're in trouble?" Posey asks. Before Madison can answer, Posey snaps. "Look at me when I'm...oh." Madison stares up at Posey and shivers a little. Posey's looking at him like he looked at the blood on the floor yesterday.

"I made you cry." Posey crouches down in front of him and runs a finger lightly over Madison's damp eyelashes. "Did it hurt that much?"

It's clear he's waiting for an answer, but Madison has no idea what the right answer is. "Yeah," he finally says. "It hurt."

"Mmmmm," Posey hums as he traces the sticky line left on Madison's face by the tears. "It's a lot, isn't it? The last twenty-four hours."

Madison nods.

Posey holds his hand out and Madison gives him the Sharpie. "You still came without permission," he says, uncapping the pen. "But I don't have to punish you now for it. Roll up your sleeve."

Confused, Madison obeys.

"Four, I think," Posey says as he writes a 4 on the inside of Madison's arm. "But it can wait until Monday." He hands the pen back to Madison. "Keep that, or one like it, on you all the time. Well, all the time we're not playing. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Now, stand up and go get the chastity device."

It's weird, but Madison just stands there and lets Posey lock the thing on him. He feels exhausted, like he's pitched a complete game or run the stairs at Coors for an hour. It's easier to just go with it. When Posey points at the floor and says, "Back down," Madison kneels again.

"One more thing. You don't get to shower tonight. I want you to smell like this all night; I want you to remember what I did to you and not wash it away. Got it?"

It sounds seriously gross, but Madison doesn't even think of arguing. "Yeah."

"Good." Posey pauses and then he's tapping a finger on his leg.

"Thank you, Buster."

"For what?"

Oh fuck, what the hell is he supposed to say now? "For um...." Madison swallows and his eyes flick to Posey's belt.

"For?"

"For beating me," Madison mumbles.

"That'll do. I might not always use my belt though. It's easier if you just thank me for punishing you."

"Yeah," Madison says and then for some reason adds, "Yes, Buster."

Posey ruffles Madison's hair again and then heads for the door. "You look good when you cry," he says and then he's gone.

Madison stares at the door for a long time before he finally gets to his feet. His ass is killing him and he's confused and angry and he's already itchy and...and he just had the best orgasm of his life.

And he doesn't know what to think about anything any more.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> No major notes on this one. The title's from "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons. And, as always, thank you, Darkrose for being your, encouraging, awesome self.


End file.
